


Camping Skills

by TheWalnutGallery



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Darkest Dungeon AU, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Minor Character Death, SaiOuMota - Freeform, saioumotaweek2018
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-10
Updated: 2018-08-10
Packaged: 2019-06-25 12:14:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15640551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWalnutGallery/pseuds/TheWalnutGallery
Summary: Momota, Saihara and Ouma pause their expedition to camp, a momentary respite from the horrors surrounding them all.Saioumota Week Day 6 - SleepingDarkest Dungeon AU





	Camping Skills

**Author's Note:**

> Saioumota Week Day 6 - Sleeping (saioumotaweek.tumblr.com). This is more preparation for sleep than the actual sleeping. 
> 
> Darkest Dungeon AU though hopefully it can be enjoyed without too much knowledge of the game. I'm interested in how people will like this idea, I had a lot of fun with it.

The flame roared and crackled on the floor in front of them, thankfully the logs they had carried through these ruins had caught alight without much resistance and now kept the room somewhat warm and lit. It was a relief to take a break from carrying the torches around constantly in the hopes of avoiding any ambushes and the horrors of the dark. 

Saihara pulled his cloak around himself tighter, the room was warm from their campfire but the underground chill still made its way through the crumbling walls around them. He kept his beaked mask on his face as he counted the vials around his belt, checking his inventory for the remainder of the quest ahead. He would remove it when he slept, it acted as mostly protection from his own blights that he made and carried as opposed to any plagues that may lie under the manor. He had seen plenty of unmasked people make their way out of the crypts un-ailed, and plenty of people taking all the necessary precautions who still ended up diseased in some way or another. 

He was grateful now that he had prepared extra for this mission, he still had plenty of stunning grenades, filled with gas that could burst into sound and light on impact, and plague grenades, filled with a liquid that produced noxious vapors. Then there was the buffing and healing, more vapors that could embolden fighters and bring out their strengths, and medicines that couldn’t heal for a lot, but could provide some comfort to his allies. The dagger ached in his pocket, it was rarely used in favor of his other abilities that could bring them advantages, but sometimes brute force was the only way and as their situation got more desperate it was more and more likely that it would need to be used. 

He really wasn’t sure if his healing supplies would be enough for the rest of the dungeon. He was never the designated healer, four of them had embarked on this mission but now only three of them sat around the fire. He’d told the other two that they should leave once one fell, but they had insisted that they could still push on. He understood that if they left now it may feel like her death was in vain, but it would be much worse if they all died there. Somehow their sanity remained mostly intact, still allowing them to make decisions with clarity. 

 

Their fourth ally had been Angie Yonaga, an ever-faithful vestal to her God Atua. She had been quirky and enthusiastic, an always welcome addition to a team to keep spirits and health high. Even those who did not believe could not deny her skill and devotion. That’s why it had been hard on them all as they watched the skeletal arbalest take aim and hit her dead on with its bolt. They’d fought hard to protect her as she laid on the ground at death’s door, but before Saihara had a chance to administer his battlefield medicine she’d bled out. It had not been a fitting end for the cheerful girl, left lying on the broken paved ground in her own blood, but it was the end she had. 

He finally shifted his mask down to his slim neck, content with the numbers of chemicals he had remaining and took note of the activities of the others. Ouma ran cloths and worked tools into his gun expertly, cleaning and maintaining it to keep it at peak performance for what they had left to conquer. He had earlier set up lines of wire and bells around the doors of their safe room to prevent a nighttime ambush while they rested. Perks like that were certainly comforting as lethargy began to overtake them. Gold eyes couldn’t help but note that the smallest of them had barely taken any food from their rations despite them having had enough for a full meal each. Momota had tried to force him to take more but his appetite had been lacking. The plague doctor wondered if it was the stress beginning to get to him. He’d dodged a lot of physical attacks, swords swinging in his direction, but he had been struck by the wine of the bone courtiers and entranced by the gestures of acolytes a few too many times. 

Then there was Momota, clad in heavy armor and bandaging his wounds. His armor offered him protection but eventually the blades made their way to his flesh, cutting and slashing. His helmet had been placed to the side for their camp, unable to sleep with it on. He appeared antsy, as if there was something he wanted to say but didn’t know how to say it. Finally, he stood, the clanking of metal catching the attention of the two other boys. 

“We’re already more than halfway through this dungeon, it's been rough on our way to this point, sure, but we’ll push onwards. Once we finish scouting this area it’ll open up the path for all of us to keep moving on through these ruins and together we’ll eventually defeat the darkest dungeon there is! The secrets of this manor cannot be kept from heroes like us, and sometimes heroes need to lay down their lives for the good of others. Yonaga would not be sad to know that she met her end like this, she would be proud that we’re able to keep going and proud that she was part of something as big as this.” He bowed his head at the end of his zealous speech, sitting back down and placing his sword to his side, regarding the loyal blade fondly. 

 

Saihara couldn’t help but think about how far Momota had come, he still remembered their first dungeon where they had been accompanied by another vestal and a different highwayman, both had perished on other quests over time. Momota had been trembling at the sight of the skeletons and ghouls and abominations that appeared before them. Since he had been able to control his fear of the unholy enough to even give a speech at a time like this. A smile made its way to Saihara’s face for the first time in a while, the memory clearing his mind and reminding him of how far they had all come. Even Ouma seemed to be feeling a little better after hearing those words, finishing his gun maintenance, casting his alert gaze around the room to ensure there were no other openings that needed trapping. 

Though worry still gnawed at the back of his mind, how could it not? The fire began to flicker at a greater frequency as it started to pitter out, giving way to darkness. A loud yawn escaped the crusader, stretching his muscular arms upwards in exhaustion. 

“We should get some rest, our stocks will hold for the rest of this dungeon,” Momota spoke, checking their shared bag of what they still held in their supplies. Their last remaining shovel sat beside the bag, and they hoped it would be enough to take down any walls they still had left to break. 

“The traps are all set, nothing will get through these doors tonight,” Ouma spoke for the first time since they settled, voice carefree but eyes fixated on the remaining flame. Momota bit his lip, his concern for the sneaky boy boiling in his gut. 

 

They had both heard how his last quest had gone, though he appeared to have recovered now. They had all been through terrible things, had friends die both in front of them, watched as people broke down and lost their final shreds of sanity, they had all been witness awful things. But Ouma and his previous party had laid eyes on something worse than horrific, something far outside of human comprehension even. Though they did not know the details, the others from that party refusing to talk or think about it further, not wishing to recall those memories, they knew it had been bad. 

Yonaga herself had told them both that while she had been praying in the abbey to Atua she had seen an unusual face enter the holy place. Ouma was not one for religion, usually making his way to the gambling hall after a quest and mocking Momota for his losses, or trying to entice Iruma to play with her best trinkets on the line. He had stumbled into the abbey and responded to Yonaga’s greeting with incoherent ramblings and nonsensical accusations. He would have caused a scene had there been more people. He had laughed incessantly at her whenever she attempted to speak and yelled that he ‘had not killed her, it had only been an accident’ despite their mission having had no fatalities, and told her all about his candle making abilities that, in reality, did not exist. Finally, he left her and locked himself in a penance chamber, the sharp noise of leather hitting flesh ringing out from the heavy door, until he had recovered. His attitude had caused her distress, so she had stayed in the abbey until he emerged, tired but sane. 

 

“Are you alright?” Saihara gently asked him over the dying the fire. 

“Hunky dory! Why wouldn’t I be?” a familiar grin crept across his face, finally shifting his attention away from the fire, breathing light. 

“We should all be honest with each other, it will be hard to continue as three so we cannot keep secrets right now. It could be deadly.” Saihara kept his gaze hard, knuckles whitening as he clutched the thick material of his black cloak. 

“You don’t need to tell me, I’m the most honest person here!” he sat up straight, insisting it was true to the chuckles of the others. 

The trio shuffled closer together, sleeping far apart from each other would only lead to them each feeling cold and alone, in these times it was more beneficial to know that others were near and to be able to wake them quickly, worst comes to worst. Amongst the silence though, their warrior of light could not let the issue pressing in his mind lie. 

“What did you see?” he quietly asked, turning his attention to Ouma, who blinked back innocently. “On your last quest, what was it you all saw?” A few beats of silence passed between them, before a response finally filled the air. 

“A creature that,” his mouth was dry, the words catching against his teeth and tongue uncertainly, “a man that takes those who perished in these dungeons.” 

“Takes them?” Saihara felt a chill travel down his spine despite his warm attire, would that man be able to take Yonaga too, then? 

“The Collector, it looks like a man with a skeletal head, but underneath the coat,” his voice died out into panicked gasps, Momota opened his mouth to speak, to calm him but he continued on, “he could call forth those who had perished, they would fight for him, a collection of, of heads,” stuttering and breathing heavy he struggled to continue on, “heads that still lived, heads that screamed and souls that fought.” Momota wrapped his strong arms around the small boy’s shaking form, attempting to offer a physical comfort to quell the horrors of the mind. 

“More reason why we must heal this afflicted land,” Saihara mumbled, pulling himself closer into their huddle, ignoring the paranoia building within him. The trauma of experiencing such a thing was clearly great if it could cause someone as strong willed as Ouma to crumble and whimper, and in all likelihood the only reason he was willing to share this with them was the fear that it could return while in their presence. Knowledge was power. 

“Does it only take the heads of the dead?” Momota asked hesitantly, truly knowing the answer already but desperately wanting to be wrong. 

“I think so, but they don’t have to be dead before it finds them,” he whispered darkly. “If anyone were caught by it, then they would end up inside that coat,” he paused, breathing slowing and body returning to his own control. They didn’t need to know what exactly was inside that coat, and Ouma didn’t seem ready to elaborate. They hoped to never know what was inside that coat. 

“Courage, men. We shall prevail,” Momota gave final words of comfort to the two, allowing Ouma to nestle his head against his own unprotected neck, and Saihara’s arm laid heavily across them both, body curled up against Ouma’s. 

“Look at you,” Ouma drawled out playfully, “all ready to knock some skulls!” 

“Let us save this energy for tomorrow,” Saihara sleepily yawned, encouraging both the boys to settle down to rest. 

They would need all the energy and courage they could muster to finish this overwhelming task with their handicapped numbers. At least, no matter what happened as they continued on, they would be together in victory or defeat.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this! Please let me know if you did or if you didn't! 
> 
> I don't know how many people will also be into darkest dungeon, though it is a really good game, recommended. And hopefully it could still be enjoyed even if you don't know much about the game!


End file.
